


Down Time

by Writers_whimsy



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Nudity, Public Nudity, R&R, Teasing, Weird Human Customs, poor lost Superboy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 06:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6791710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writers_whimsy/pseuds/Writers_whimsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the team's first bit of downtime and Superboy is at a loss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down Time

Superboy was new to the concept of time off. It wasn’t something the G-Gnomes had included in his education. And why should they? Tools do not need down time. They were either in use or not. Back in the box and waiting to be useful again. Sometimes, times like this when everything was so new and uncertain, Superboy almost missed his pod back at Cadmus. The familiarity. The routine. But no, he’d chosen freedom and freedom included time off. Robin and Kid Flash insisted on it.

Mount Justice echoed hollowly around him. Robin was in Gotham with Batman and Kid Flash was in Central City doing who knows what. Probably with his family or the Flash. He didn’t know when they’d be back. Tonight maybe. Or tomorrow. Kaldur had left for Atlantis two days ago. M’Gann had taken the bio-ship to visit the Martian Man-Hunter. He didn’t know about Artemis. Home as well, he assumed. Superboy had no family to visit, no city call home. The mountain felt empty in a way that wasn’t just about warm bodies and laughter and it puzzled Superboy to no end. Yet another feeling that had no explanation, made no sense. Not for the first time he wished the G-Gnomes had been able to have finished his education before he was freed.

He tried to focus on the static on the television. He usually found it calming. Soothing. Not today. Today he was unsettled. Restless. Black Canary had banned him from the training room for today. It had rankled, he hated – hated - taking orders, even from Black Canary who seemed genuinely keen on helping him be a better fighter. Be a better Superman. 

His homework had been completed hours ago. Easy, ridiculously so. He hardly needed to concentrate to tap into the well of knowledge programmed into his head. Modifications to his motorcycle had been completed last week. To do anything else to the machine would be unnecessary. He didn’t see the point in tinkering, as Robin called it, with a machine that was already in perfect working order. The television had been his last resort.

Superboy found himself pacing. Kitchen to sofa to the zeta tubes and back to the kitchen. He growled in frustration when he realised what he was doing. His hands and forearms ached with tension, his fists were bunched so tight. He needed to do something. Go somewhere. He did not like being so idle.

Before he realised what he was doing he was half way to the hanger with vague ideas of going outside. Maybe he could practice trying to control his landings – the team was constantly harping on about how rough they were on the environment and honestly, he was getting sick of it – or see if he could push himself into running fast as Superman could or maybe see if he could hear individual conversations going on in nearby Happy Harbour. He was sure that if he tried just a little bit harder, he’d manage it, he’d be that bit closer to fulfilling his purpose. That he’d stop being a cheap knock-off of Superman and become the real thing. That wasn’t training, not really. 

It was a bright, sunny day outside the mountain. Superboy paused for a moment, drinking in the warmth, the life he could feel in that one patch of dappled sunlight. He felt the muscles in his shoulders loosen a little. Felt the furrow between his eyebrows smooth out as he relaxed fractionally.

When was the last time the skies had been clear and the air warm? He couldn’t remember. The more he thought about it, he realised this was probably the first truly sunny day he had experienced. At least, when he wasn’t on a mission or stuck in a classroom pretending to be a real boy.

He stepped out of the mottled light into full on sunshine and tilted his chin back, let his eyes drop closed. His skin prickled with the warmth of it and he drank down the sensation like a man dying of thirst. 

Muscles he hadn’t even realised were tight and achy relaxed under the onslaught and he unwittingly let out a soft sigh.

Peace. Revitalising, but tranquil.

A sea breeze tugged at his hair and the bitter smell of brine caught his nose. The beach was only a jump away. He could go there to train, he reasoned. No, not train - he’d promised – but to practice. He could practice there just as easily as the woods. Easier in fact; less stuff to damage, less to distract his ears.

Convinced that there was good purpose to changing his intended destination, Superboy leapt. For a moment he was weightless, flying just like Superman and everything felt good and right, then gravity took hold and he angled himself for a landing with a heavy heart.

Sand sprayed into the air almost as high as he was tall. The resulting crater was the size of one of those ridiculous vehicles M’Gann had cooed over after a mission one time. Kid Flash had called it a Smart Car but Superboy couldn’t understand why anyone would want a vehicle with intelligence. It wasn’t his best landing, even he had to admit, but at least he’d managed to stay on both feet this time. Sometimes he was forced to one knee with the force of his landing, not knowing his own strength or miscalculating the forced required to get from A to B. It stirred that ever present pit of anger in his belly but it wasn’t his fault. They’d made him wrong then failed to complete his education on how to control this stuff properly.

He shook his head clear and stepped out onto smoother sand. The beach was empty like he’d known it would be. Red Tornado had explained that it was inaccessible by land unless you knew where the path was - and seeing as it was right outside the back door of Mount Justice, that didn’t really include many people at all and all of them were heroes anyway – and the sea levels were such that any boat would be beached well before it reached the shore.

The Sun beat down heavy on his shoulders, pounding the tension out his muscles, warming him down to the core. He hadn’t even realised he was cold. It wasn’t a cold that could be helped by wearing a jumper, he realised. He didn’t feel that kind of cold. He was Superman’s clone after all and Superman could survive in the cold vacuum of space without a problem. In fact, he would have sworn that his t-shirt was blocking some of that heavenly warmth. He hesitated for a moment before pulling off his shirt and letting it drop to the sand.

Bliss.

Eyes closed, face titled to the light, Superboy simply basked in the warmth, greedily absorbing every drop of goodness from it he could.

Logically, he knew that Superman and therefore he himself gained energy from a yellow Sun but he’d never felt it like this before. No clouds, no clothes, nothing between him and rapture.

It wasn’t long before he divested himself of all his clothing and stretched out to take in as much prickling energy as he could. He tingled everywhere, even down to the soles of his feet and he’d never felt so good in his short life. He felt revitalised, strengthened, yet at the same time strangely lethargic and at ease. He wanted to do nothing more than stretch out on the sand and bathe in the feeling for the rest of his days.

Training – practice – could wait a little while, he reasoned. An hour tops. The prickle settled in a hum and Superboy almost groaned it felt so good. Okay, maybe two, but no more than that. 

Eyes closed and muscles relaxed, Superboy soon settled into a light sleep. For once his dreams were pleasant. Full of warmth and strength and contentment. 

He stayed that way until he was jolted into wakefulness by an indignant “Dude!”

His eyes snapped open to spy an upside down Kid Flash – no, no costume so he had to call him Wally – with an arm thrown up to shield his eyes and an expression of horror etched onto his face.

“Clothes, man! At least put on some shorts!”

A wild cackle forced Superboy to look beyond Wally to see Robin with an oversized beach umbrella balanced on his shoulder and a blushing M’Gann with a picnic basket in hand by his side. Artemis couldn’t seem to meet his eyes but seemed to be trying not to laugh none the less. At least Kaldur wasn’t behaving like he’d done something funny or naive or just flat out wrong. He wasn’t sure which he was doing now by lying under the Sun in the nude, but he suspected it probably involved all three.

Superboy frowned and dragged his jeans towards him, sitting up to angrily pull them on. Artemis whistled and made some strange comment about Commandos that he didn’t understand.

“You can’t just go around like that man,” Wally continued as the team set up camp around Superboy; laying out a big blanket and pitching the umbrella and pulling soda and chips out of the basket and distributing them amongst themselves. “Anyone could see you and dude, nobody needs to see the Superdong.”

“Oh, I could stand to see a little more,” Artemis chipped in, that bemusing tone to her voice that rendered everything she said a mystery to Superboy. 

M’Gann giggled and Superboy thought maybe Robin was rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses as he pushed a cold can of soda into Superboy’s hand.

“Nobody can come here,” he pointed out. “Nobody can see me.”

“Oh, so that wasn’t Supey Jr you were trying to cook? Could have fooled me, dude. You do know they could probably see you in the Watchtower, right?” Wally snickered. “I wonder who’s on duty -”

Superboy felt his brow contract into a frown. 

They puzzled him, aggravated him, and sometimes he swore they were talking in code but he was strangely glad they were here. He was pretty sure free time meant they could be anywhere and do anything and they had chosen to be here. With him. If that meant he had to listen to Wally talk a million miles an hour and not make sense for a single minute of it and listen to Robin cackle with glee at his awkwardness and wear clothes when he could be basking in sunlight, he’d do it.


End file.
